


A Discerning Collector

by IreneADonovan



Series: Rare Pairs 2019 [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles in a Wheelchair, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 01:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17950697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Charles is broke. An exotic stranger offers to buy his tears...





	A Discerning Collector

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinnamonclove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonclove/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [cinnamonclove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonclove/pseuds/cinnamonclove) in the [xmenrarepairs19](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmenrarepairs19) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> When Charles badly needs money. He meets ENS, a tall, dark, and mysterious gentlemen. He is a collector of unusually beautiful things. ENS offers Charles a large amount of money in exchange for Charles' tears.
> 
>  
> 
> _I hope you like this..._

Charles needed money. Desperately.

His family had disowned him. Well, all but Raven. And she wouldn't inherit her share of the family trust for another three years, though she had promised him half.

That didn't help him now, though. Grants and student loans could only stretch so far. His rent was due in a week, and he was out of three rather pricey medications, and out of food.

So he was sitting beside a park bench, drinking really cheap ~~battery acid~~ scotch out of an iced-tea bottle, and trying to forget how fucked his life was.

A tall stranger with curly dark hair strode along the path, moving with purpose and power. He passed Charles, then he paused, turned. His eyes were piercing and dark, and his gaze locked onto Charles.

Charles squirmed in his chair.

“Pardon me,” the stranger said, his voice tinged with some unfamiliar accent.

“Yes?”

“I'm a collector of rare and beautiful things.”

“Well, I'm neither.”

“I disagree.”

“Nor am I a prostitute.” He wasn't that desperate. Yet.

“It's not your body I'm after.”

Of course not. It seemed no one could ever look past the damned wheelchair.

“Though it is exquisite.”

Hunh?

“No, what I wish to add to my collection is your tears.”

“I don't cry. Not in years.”

“Not even for ten thousand dollars?”

“You have my attention.”

“I want your tears.”

“Bring me an onion.”

“No. Real tears. Emotional tears.”

“Not happening. I shed all my tears years ago.” He'd raged and grieved and cried after the accident, until he was left burnt-out and drained. He'd been numb for years, and he wasn't talking about his legs.

“Will you let me try something?”

“Knock yourself out. But it won't work.”

The man cradled Charles’ jaw in his supple, long-fingered hands, then he bent and covered Charles’ mouth with his own. He was gentle, coaxing, but insistent, his tongue lapping at Charles’ lips until they parted. The kiss was sweet and passionate both, stirring emotions Charles had thought long-dead.

Something woke in Charles, broke in Charles.

As the kiss drew to its inevitable close, Charles was stunned to feel tears trickling down his cheeks.

The man withdrew a small vial from his jacket pocket, uncapped it, collected enough tears that Charles could see them at the bottom of the vial, reflecting the sunlight as the man re-capped it.

He slipped the vial back into his pocket, withdrew a fat envelope from inside his jacket. “As promised,” he said, setting it on Charles’ lap. “Take care, Charles Xavier. We shall meet again.” And he strode away.

Charles peeked into the envelope. Hundreds. A lot of them.

He tucked the envelope under his leg and unlocked his brakes. It was only as he started for home that he realized he'd never told the stranger his name.


End file.
